


Pulling the Strings

by TopazTeardrop



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Gore, Homophobia, If you like reddie on tiktok then read this, Ill add more tags in the morning im so sorry, Internalized Homophobia, It 2017 alternate ending, M/M, Manipulation, Ok editing it now, Possessed Richie AU, Rated T for Trashmouth, Reddie, Richie centric, This ones gonna hurt for like a while but I promise I have a good ending in mind, because why not, light billverly if you read into that, oh yea Richie and Eddie are gay and repressed., ok ok so this ones weird, uhhh what else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 20:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21343933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TopazTeardrop/pseuds/TopazTeardrop
Summary: What if instead of taking Beverly in It 2017, It took Richie? when Richie refuses to be afraid of It anymore, It uses Richie to torment the rest of the losers clubor alternativelyTiktok is obsessed with Richie getting possessed by Pennywise and I like hurting these kids so I did this.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 48
Kudos: 233





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> OK ok ok this deserves some explanation. I love tikitok but everyone on there is always doing these PossessedRichie AUs and theyre beautifully angsty and painful so I legally had to write it.  
A few warnings, I did not proofread this and will come in and edit after Ive slept because its 2:30 am. also I didnt read the book so sue me

They shouldn’t have split up.

Richie had yelled at so many scary movies for doing it. Never split up! That’s how you get picked off! Jesus you morons this isn’t Scooby fuckin Doo!

But now that Richie’s life had become a shitty horror flick, he supposed he could sympathize. Maybe there is a reason to split up, on occasion. This was one of them.

He hadn’t seen the other losers for weeks. Not since his and Bill’s big blowout fight after they went into the Neibolt house. Instead Richie opted to spend his days at the Aladdin Arcade, blowing what little money he had on round after round of street fighter. For awhile it had been pretty good actually, kept him distracted from the anger that boiled up every time he thought about his “friends.” But after awhile, even Street Fighter wasn’t all that exciting anymore. Richie had never been the kind of kid that could just sit and do one thing over and over, even if it was a video game. The repetitiveness of it is what made his mind wander. As time went on, his anger faded and left a faint ache as he muscle memoried his way through the levels.

He missed his friends. His shitty, shitty friends who’d almost gotten him killed. He missed Stan, who could bounce off his bullshit like a pro. He missed Bev, who shamelessly laughed at the worst of his jokes and could always fire ‘em right back. He missed Bill and Mike and Ben and… and Eddie, who was still very much on house arrest. He’d never admit it, but Richie missed Eddie most of all. It was like the air next to him was hollow, the space Eddie usually occupied by his side whenever he was lecturing Richie or prodding at his arm to draw his attention to something. He let himself dwell on that for a moment, Eddie at his side. The sweet thought quickly turned sour as Richie remembered Eddie on the floor of the Neibolt house, arm broken and screaming, literal inches from death. He remembered how Bill had put them there and how even after almost losing Eddie, Bill asked them to go back. Anger flared up in his chest again, and he turned his attention back to Street fighter.

Given Richie’s luck, he should have known this would get ripped away from him too. Didn’t make it hurt any less when he got chased out of the one happy place he had left, Bower’s words following him out. His eyes stung as he ran from the arcade, letting his feet choose where he ended up. Town square. Absentmindedly he stumbled over to sit on a park bench, pressing his face into his hands as he tried to cope with the sharp hurt in his chest._ Maybe,_ Richie thought, _it__ wouldn’t hurt so much if it wasn’t fucking true._

He sat there for a moment, telling himself to _Pull it together, Tozier, you’ve dealt with worse than this,_ when a deep voice boomed all around him.

“Wanna kiss, Richie?” It asked, monstrous and gravelly, twisting Richie’s stomach into knots. When Richie pulled himself out of his hands, he shoved his glasses up his face, barely having time to register the empty pedestal in front of him before a thunderous roar erupted from his side. The Paul Bunyan statue had become a jagged-mouthed monster, its open maw bellowing so hard the force of wind almost knocked him over. It was all he could do to scream and leap out of the way as the newly possessed Bunyan brought down his weapon where Richie had been only a second ago.

His only instinct was to run, but he couldn’t outrun this. Not on his skinny legs while the thing crashing down behind him easily had twenty-five feet on him. He’d barely made it ten paces before stumbling over his gangly limbs and falling hard, glasses going flying.

“It’s not real. It’s not real it’s not real it’s not real it’snotreal-” Richie repeated to himself, forcing himself to believe his own words. Amidst the adrenaline, the small part of his brain that retained some logic told him that it was the truth. It’s not real. He knew from experience these illusions were just that, illusions, but the fear was real. Not just the fear of that stupid fucking clown but the things he taunted Richie with. _Wanna kiss, Richie?_ The voice from demonic Paul Bunyan rattled around his head as Richie’s hands guarded his face, waiting for the strike.

It never came.

Eventually, Richie dropped his hands and looked around. The statue was gone. It hadn’t been real. He took a deep breath, laying back in the grass.

“I think I just shit my pants.” He said to himself, finding and slipping his glasses back on as he pulled himself onto his feet. _That’s enough for one day,_ he thought numbly, still processing the events. The park still felt weirdly empty. Of course, there was nobody around to see the statue attack, not that they would have really seen what happened anyways, but by now people should be back to mulling around. Strange. Richie shook the thought from his head, replacing it with a new one. _What now?_

He may as well go home, he had nowhere else to go. No arcade to hide in, no friends to turn to anymore. Not that he’d ever tell them about this-  
Goosebumps shot up his neck and he was suddenly acutely aware of eyes on the back of his neck. Instinctively, Richie turned. His nose was inches away from a wall of filthy white fabric, in the middle of which sat a large red ball. Richie’s heart stopped.

“Is this not real enough for you, Richie?” Pennywise taunted, and before he could blink there was an impossibly long hand around his neck. His breath gone, Richie was jerked off his feet, hanging by his neck as he was forced to stare It in the face. Its huge yellow eyes bored into him with that terrible, feral look that made Richie’s skin feel like ice. 

It was smiling, displaying rows and rows of razor sharp teeth as the smile just got wider, so wide it contorted the clowns face by pushing it’s other features out of the way like it’s face was made of putty.

“IS THIS NOT REAL ENOUGH FOR YOU?!” It bellowed, spit spewing onto Richie’s face. He screamed, then the world went dark.

* * *

Even though the losers club had unofficially officially disbanded, Bill still saw a few of them from time to time. Ben, ever the sweetheart, rode bikes with him a few times, although he thinks that Ben wanted to make sure Bill didn’t blame himself for his injuries. That didn’t mean Bill didn’t appreciate the gesture.

He just didn’t want to be alone most of the time. Just him and his parents alone in a house that had long since gone quiet after Georgie went missing. Rather than wallow in the silence there, he spent hours on his bike. Cycling around Derry, stopping occasionally to people watch or grab a bite to eat. Staying mobile helped, he thought. If he stayed on him bike, it was like he could outrun It. Or maybe he wasn’t running away. Maybe he was trying to get back to something.

His most common company for his long, pointless expeditions around town was Beverly. He knew she didn’t like to stay in her house either, albeit for a different set of reasons. Despite the terrible tensions caused by the Big Loser Breakup, Bill still really liked hanging out with Bev. Not only was she fun to be around, he appreciated how she’d taken his side after Neibolt. They had been the only two in favor of returning to finish the job. His heart swelled every time he thought of how bold she’d been._ I want to run towards something. Not away._

But here they were, running in circles because as much as they couldn’t run away, they couldn’t just the two of them go back. Bev was insistent that they’d need all the losers, and Bill begrudgingly agreed with her. It wouldn't be right. So they biked.

Riding side by side, they talked about anything other than It and the losers, which was hard for Bill since most of his stories had them in it. So he started making up his own, and despite his stutter, he was pretty good at it. spinning stories for Bev reminded him of making up bedtime stories for Georgie, in a bittersweet way. Bev seemed to enjoy them at least, laughing before waving a hand to cut Bill off.

“Alright, alright,” She laughed, pulling over to the side of the road. Bill followed suit. “I’m starving, I haven’t eaten all day so I'm grabbing a snack.” She nodded to the convenience store they’d pulled over in front of. “Want anything?”

Bill thought for a moment. “S-sure. G-grab me a-a-a bag of ch-chips.” He decided.

“Coming right up!” Bev said, strolling into the store, tossing a “Watch the bikes!” over her shoulder.

Bill leaned against the side of the building, absentmindedly scanning the street around him. Derry, being a generally sleepy town, didn’t usually see a bug bustle of people. But given it was a beautiful summer day, a few couples and families strolled the sidewalks, peering into shop displays or at the posters on the wall. Bill found himself doing the same, eyes drifting from the people to posters for community events to a sign tacked to a lamppost on the street corner.

The sign tacked to the lamppost on the street corner. He recognised it, it was hard not to in Derry these days. It was a missing poster. They were everywhere now, searching for all the children that only Bill and his friends knew how to find. Maybe it was that guilt that made Bill go look at who was on it, or perhaps a morbid curiosity. After all, the sign looked fairly new, probably posted in the last two days. As Bills eyes focused on the page, he felt panic rise in his chest before he even fully processed what he was seeing. It looked oddly familiar, not just in the way of being any old missing poster around Derry. He had seen this specific poster before. Not only that, he recognized the face on it. How could he not? He tore the poster off the pole, gripping it with both hands like it would vanish. 

_It had been a trick before_, Bill reminded himself, trying to fight the awful feeling that rose in his throat, _it could be a trick now_. This didn’t feel like a trick. There was none of the strange, mystic energy that surrounded Its tricks here. This time, it was real. Bill felt the truth of that settle into his gut as the convenience store door swung open.

“Hey, do you like salt and vinega-” Beverly stopped in her tracks. She stared at Bill, who turned to face her but never bringing his eyes up from the kid on the poster. “Did it- It got another kid, didn’t it?” Beverly asked quietly. Bill said nothing, which was answer enough. “Bill, there’s nothing we could have done.” She chided. He just shook his head. She didn’t know, _she didn’t know._ Bev thought he felt guilty they didn’t stop It when they had the chance. Which was true, in a way. But that was just the tip of the guilt iceberg.

“Who was it?” She whispered, stepping closer to try and look over the top of the page. Bill was finally able to look up just to lock eyes with Bev, who looked concerned by the level of terror that quickly flooded his face. “Bill?”

“R-r-richie.” He managed. Bev’s jaw went slack. She looked like Bill had smacked her. “It g-got Richie, Bev.” His breath sped up. Saying it aloud made it real. “F-fuck, It g-got R-richie!”

Beverly snatched the flyer out of Bills shaking hands just to gasp when she saw her friend in his big dopey glasses smiling up at her. They were silent while Bev processed what must have happened, the same guilt Bill was feeling washing over her too.

She swallowed. “We never should have split up.”


	2. Its funny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pennywise can't scare Richie anymore, but that doesn't mean he's not useful.

When Richie came to, the first thing he did was check that he still had his glasses. They always managed to fall off or slide down his nose at the least opportune time, but now they were still pushed to the bridge of his nose. Not that having them made much of a difference, he realized. Wherever he was, it was pitch black and freezing cold on the ground where Richie was laying. Slowly, he sat up and blinked, trying to force his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Where was he? How long had he been here? 

As he carefully got to his feet, Richie remembered the events leading up to… whatever this was. The arcade, the Paul Bunyan statue, then being grabbed by Pennywise. Oh. That’s right. It had grabbed him before he passed out. 

Oh _ fuck _. It had grabbed him. Panic rose in Richie’s gut as he realized what this meant. He was in Its lair. Richie’s been grabbed, he’s one of the missing kids now, this was real and fuck, Richie had to clap a hand over his mouth to fight the bile that threatened its way up his throat. Now fully standing, he stumbled back a little bit, thrown off balance by his body attempting to reject his lunch and the fact that he’d just been unconscious for who knows how long. Staggering back, his foot splashed into a puddle that sent him falling backwards, landing the bottom of his jeans in the water. 

“Fuck!” his voice echoed, prompting Richie to look up and examine the size of the space he was actually in. He was definitely underground, sure, but that wasn’t what made Richie’s chest tight with fear. His eyes now used to the dimly lit environment, he could see the domineering spire that curved up into the air. It looked like it had been built out of items from a junkyard, old furniture and rotted trinkets packed into a spiraling obelisk that jutted into the sky. Worse still, there were things suspended in the air around it, as if by magic. Richie’s intense breathing was deafening in his ears as he made out what the objects were. 

Not objects. Kids. Dozens of them. All the missing kids, corpses hanging in the air and floating gently, as if caught in some soft summer breeze.

That was enough for Richie. He wanted out, and he wanted out now. He whipped his head around in search of an exit and locked onto a large sewer pipe off to his left. _ Yes! _

Before he could make a mad dash for it, Richie was frozen in place as music began to emanate from the spire. Looking back that way, Richie realized the music was playing from a stage that was embedded in the base of the spire. He hadn’t seen it before. It was an old dilapidated wooden box with faded spirally letters across the front. The music that filled that air was sickeningly jovial, like the music that plays over a merry-go-round. Richie couldn’t look away as the stage fell open with explosive fanfare, revealing the star attraction: Pennywise the Dancing Clown. The stage was flooded with red and orange lights, like bright fire, as Pennywise began to dance, jumping up and down to the music. As the music began to spin a faster tune, the clown danced faster, but Its head never gave the appearance of moving with its body. It was holding completely steady, frowning at Richie with eyes that bored into his soul.

It was too much. Richie forced himself to break eye contact and scramble for the exit, but the moment he did, Pennywise was leaping off the stage with superhuman ability. It landed with a boom in front of Richie, blocking his path. In a panic, Richie tried to scramble back the way he came, but was stopped by Its impossibly long hands reaching down and curling around his neck, hoisting him into the air as he’d done before. Richie let out a strangled yell, scratching at its arms to no avail. 

It just laughed in his face, taunting Richie, making pouty faces as It relished in Richie’s distress. Fighting fruitlessly for his life, Richie had a sudden, stupid thought. _ At least I’m not getting killed by Bowers. _ It was random, one of those thoughts your brain spits at you for no real reason. But the momentary thought of Henry Bowers shot anger through Richie, quickly replacing his fear. Of all the fucked up shit that had happened to him today, somehow the arcade incident was worst in his mind.

Richie hadn’t been lying when he said he was afraid of clowns. They were creepy, but they in no way compared to the much more realistic fears he had grappled with his whole life. Getting beaten to a pulp by bullies, having to grapple with his feelings, and what might happen if anybody ever found him out. Richie had always kind of assumed he’d be killed for how he was. It was the only future he really foresaw for himself. But here he was, getting killed by a clown of all things, and anger surged through him again. Richie fought harder, letting out an animalistic yell as Pennywise dangled him in front of It’s teeth, trying to frighten him further. It didn’t work. Richie may hate clowns, but the bullies of Derry were worse than this. They didn’t have to rely on crazy magic to be scary. Why should Richie be afraid of this?

“You think I’m scared of you?” Richie screamed, kicking his legs at the clown. “You’re fucking nothing!”

It’s taunting smile twisted into a scowl. He pulled Richie closer to his face, inhaling Richie’s scent. It snarled, smelling how little Richie feared him now. 

Then, it smiled, and a blip of fear cropped up in Richie again. “Oh, but I don’t need you to be scared of me!” It sneered, smile growing disproportionately wide. “You’re just a little boy, but somethin’ tells me you might be pretty scary to your itty bitty _ friends _.”

Before Richie could react, Its smile split its face, the top half peeling back to show off dozens of razor sharp teeth. Richie stared down into Its maw, eyes meeting three glowing balls of light in the back of It’s throat, and he felt his skin catch fire. 

How Richie had gotten outside, he didn’t know. Richie was a spectator in his own body now. It’s an extremely perverse feeling to have, like someone had hijacked the control panel in his head and forced Richie to be an audience to his actions. Maybe this is what it felt like to be on drugs, he thought. Despite all his boasting, Richie had never actually tried anything in the vein of drugs or alcohol, but if this is what it was he’d never touch any of it. That’s considering he lived, anyway.

His head spun as he stumbled his way down the dark street. The thing that piloted his body wasn’t very good at it, and for some reason it made Richie giggle. _ That's funny, right? _ He thought to himself as he fell down again, scraping his hands and knees against the asphalt. _ It doesn’t even know how to walk! That’s pretty funny. _

Everything felt funny to Richie now. He’d been so angry before, so afraid. _ Why? _He didn’t need to be afraid. What was there to be afraid of, anyway? This wasn’t so bad. All those nasty, nasty feelings he’d had before were gone. He’d had to deal with them all the time! That ugly feeling that clawed at his chest whenever other kids hurled slur after slur at him. The shame that boiled up when he caught himself staring at Eddie for just a moment too long. And of course, all the fucking fear that sat on his shoulders all hours of the day. That poor, sick little Richie would get found out, someone would uncover his dirty little secret and he’d be left all alone. 

He didn’t feel that fear anymore. Now, his head felt light, completely unburdened by the weight of his sorry existence. It just felt like floating. _ Can you float with both feet on the floor? _ Richie wondered, giggling again as he crashed back to the ground. His palms were torn from all the spills he’d taken, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t feel it. In fact, the blood looked funny on his hands. He kept laughing.

He wandered for a while, ambling down the streets of Derry with a blank slate in his head. It was late into the night, so nobody was out. Well, actually, there was a car sputtering up the road towards him. On instinct, Richie scuttled into the shadow of an alley off the main road, peeking out around the corner. He wanted to watch what they did. Maybe this would be funny too!

The black and white car pulled to a stop at the street corner, and the heavyset man in the passenger seat clambered out, tacked a sign to the streetlamp, and got back into the car, talking roughly to the driver. Richie waited for them to vanish down the road again until he left his hiding spot, deeply curious about what they had been doing. Rounding up to the sign, he was surprised to see a picture of himself waiting to greet him, under a bolded MISSING tagline. 

Delicately, Richie reached out and barely brushed the poster with his fingertips. He was confused. His chest was strangely hollow, like he should be having some deep reaction to this that just wasn’t coming. _ I used to fear this, _ he realized. But he didn’t anymore, and that was funny. 

Chuckling, Richie pulled back his hand and read the bottom text. 

Last seen: July 28th. Hey, that was today’s date! Right? It had been the 28th when he went to the arcade. Now that’s funny. How do you call someone missing if they haven’t even been gone for twenty-four hours? The cops sure jumped the gun on this one. Or maybe it wasn’t the 28th anymore. Either way, it was pretty funny.

_ You know who would think this was funny? _ Something whispered at the back of Richie’s mind, maybe his subconscious. _ Eddie! _

Oh, Eddie would get a kick out of this! Richie smiled as he turned away from the post, stumbling in the direction of Eddie’s house. He was giddy, excited to make Eddie laugh with this new development. After all, He’d missed Eddie, and the fear that had kept Richie from running back to him was nowhere to be found.

Richie meandered his way down the street, Eddie’s house wasn’t far. He was laughing the whole way, giggling to himself in excitement. He approached the house from the side, so he could see Eddie’s window. Even though it was pretty late in the night, Richie didn’t know exactly what time, the light was still on. But as he walked under the window, preparing to climb up, he stopped. He didn’t know why. His whole body urged him on. _ Go! _ His body told him. _ Go to him! Go to your Eddie! _Richie desperately wanted to obey, to scale the wall and climb into Eddies room, but something held him back. Richie frowned and tried to focus on what was stopping him, confused. 

It was a voice, quiet and familiar, crying out for him to turn back. It sounded scared. It was his own voice, Richie realized, and he barely recognized it. But he could hear how afraid he sounded, and it was enough to make Richie take a step away from the window and that small action momentarily snapped him back to his senses.

Haze that had he hadn’t even known was there cleared from his vision as Riche became fully aware of his situation. He was back at the control board, if only temporarily, and with that came the returning flood of fear. Pennywise was using him. It had sent him to collect his friends, to show them the power it had, to scare them. Shaking, Richie stepped back again and stared at his sliced hands. He could feel the pain now, he could feel it all. But it only motivated Richie. _ I have to warn them, _ his mind supplied as he closed his bloody fists, _ They need to know what’s coming. _

“Richie?” 

Eddie’s voice made Richie’s head snap up and there he was, leaning out the window and squinting at him. After feeling empty for so long, the crash of emotions Eddie caused was overwhelming. Fondness, yearning, love, protectiveness, and then fear and panic as Richie realized, staring up at Eddie, that he couldn’t stay here. Who knows when It would take control back. Richie stumbled backwards in a blur, frantically trying to put distance between himself and Eddie before turning and running as best he could the way he came.

He ran for awhile, not sure where he was trying to go. Fear gripped every muscle in his body, his mind spinning in panic. _ Not Eddie, I can’t go near Eddie, I can’t hurt him with this. _ Wherever Richie was, he was surrounded by trees now, and he stopped to slump against one. Still barely in his right mind, Richie numbly processed how exhausted he was. His hands and knees were bleeding and his whole body shook like a leaf from the cold and a clawing hunger. 

Richie slid down to sit against the base of the tree, breathing heavily. He’d almost brought whatever he was carrying in his head to Eddie, and his chest ached at the thought. Richie curled in on himself and choked on a sob. In his exhaustion he found himself wanting to feel empty again. So many times in his life he’d wished for his feelings to vanish, when it all became too much. This time, it was granted. As he cried, Richie felt his head go light again and slowly, his shaking sobs turned into laughter.

* * *

Eddie hadn’t been sleeping well. Ever since breaking his arm, his dreams had been plagued with nightmares of lepers and clowns in the house on Neibolt street. So usually after his mother put him to bed, Eddie would lay there until he was sure she was asleep before flicking his light back on. He’d occupy himself a number of different ways, reading, doodling, re-cleaning his already spotless room until he thought maybe he would catch some sleep. Tonight, he sat at his desk with an open book, trying to focus on the words with no avail. He missed the losers. He had no idea how any of them were doing, he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of his friends since his mother dragged him away. He felt a bit hurt that none of them had tried to visit him, but maybe they had come knocking and his mom just shooed them away before he could hear. But that would never stop Richie.

The fact that he’d heard nothing from his best friend worried Eddie deeply. Richie the rule-breaker, who, if Eddie was kept from hanging out, would shimmy up to his window at night and tell him everything he’d missed out on. Eddie always complained about having to unlatch the window for him, but that was their little way of saying I’m glad you’re here. That’s what Eddie had thought, anyways. After Eddie had been grounded, he was sure Richie would make his way to the window eventually. He never had, and Eddie didn’t understand why. Maybe he thought Eddie blamed him for breaking his arm in Neibolt, but Richie wasn’t the type to sit and wonder what he’d done wrong. He should have been here by now, demanding Eddie tell him if he was mad. No, there was something else keeping him away. 

Unable to place what it was, Eddie shook his head to himself and decided maybe it was time for some sleep. As he stood and closed his book, however, he noticed movement through the window and squinted at it. There was a person out there, and even through the glass and darkness, Eddie knew who it was. He’d recognize that mop of hair anywhere. Frantically, Eddie undid the window latch and slid it open, peering down at his best friend.

“Richie?” He called out hopefully, but when Richie looked up to him, something felt off. Richie looked ghastly, face gaunt and pale. He stared up at Eddie like he was seeing a ghost, and his face was frozen in pure terror. Why was he surprised to see eddie? It was his house. There was something else, too, something that he couldn’t quite place. Before he could call out again, Richie was gone, running away from Eddie. Eddie watched him go, confused and concerned. Something was really, really wrong. Richie wasn’t acting like Richie. Eddie had half a mind to call after him, or follow him, but didn’t know what he’d say or do. Maybe it would make more sense after he slept. Eddie stepped back and closed his window, resolving that in the morning he’d get his answers. But as he turned out his light and lay in bed, he doubted he’d get very much sleep tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So last chapter I accidentally set this work as "complete" when there is so much more of this coming! Thank you to everyone who left kudos or a comment, I had such a positive reaction to this which motivated me to get the next chapter up ASAP. I cant express enough how much comments motivate writers you guys, I love love love suggestions and feedback!  
So please let me know if you guys have anything specific you think should happen. Also shoutout to heyimal_ex, whos one of the cosplayers that inspired this and ended up reading it and commenting! I appreciate you so much xo<3
> 
> thanks for reading!


	3. Back into the sewer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie finds out what happened to Richie and resolves to save him, whatever it takes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So its been a minute since I updated it mainly because when I started this I had no idea where the plot was going. Still dont, but its starting to come together. mild gore warning!

Eddie knew that if he wanted to reconvene with the losers, namely Richie, he’d have to wait until his mother went away to visit his aunt. She did this every thursday without fail, but not until two p.m. so Eddie had to wait until the coast was clear. 

Waiting was agony. He stayed in his room the whole time pacing the floor and watching the clock tick frustratingly slow. He’d try to flip through a book but he could never focus on the pages. His mind kept wandering back to seeing Richie below his window the night before. He had been happy to see Richie at first, but when he looked up at Eddie something twisted in his gut. He knew something was wrong but couldn’t for the life of him place what it was. There had been something wrong with his eyes, Eddie realized. It had been dark, and maybe the light caught weird on Richie’s glasses, but Eddie could've sworn Richie’s eyes had looked strange, less brown and more… white? Glassy? 

He tried to think that if something had been rally wrong, Richie would have told him. So why hadn’t Richie just come up to his room? Or visited him at all? Or any of the losers for that matter. Eddie couldn't help but wonder if something had happened with the losers after his mother dragged him away. 

Finally, two o’clock rolled around, and his mother came to his room to say goodbye.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come along Eddie-bear?” She cooed, planting a kiss on his cheek. 

“I’m sure, mommy.” Eddie answered, sweetly as possible trying to get her to leave as fast as he could. “I want to keep resting my arm so it doesn’t get any worse.”

“Of course baby! You take care now, stay inside and rest. I’ll be home before you know it.” She planted another fat kiss on his other cheek. “Love you sweetie.”

Eddie forced a smile. “Love you too, mommy.” And just like that she was gone.

Eddie waited for her car to peel out of the driveway before bolting downstairs. His plan was to go to the arcade and try to find Richie, to ask him why he’d been at his house. If he wasn’t at the arcade, he’d try the barrens, then the quarry. On this sort of day, Eddie figured there’s no way he’d stay at his house. 

When Eddie opened the door, his passage was blocked by two familiar faces.

“Bill! Bev!” Eddie smiled at his friends, excited to see them. “What’re you guys doing here? I was just about to…” Eddie forgot the rest of his sentence as he processed the looks on their face. They weren’t smiling back at him, instead they looked tense and afraid. Bill’s hands were shaking as he fiddled with his fingers.“What’s wrong?”

The pair exchanged glances, and Eddie’s eyes flicked down to a crumpled paper that Bev was clinging to. He was staring at the back of it, but the sun hit it in a way that Eddie could make out some of the ink on the other side. Mainly, the large black letters across the top that read MISSING.

“Eddie-” Bev began, but cut herself short when Eddie snatched the poster from her. When he locked eyes with the smiling Richie on the poster, his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach.

The three of them were silent as Eddie processed what he was seeing. Slowly, he started shaking his head. “No. Nuh uh. This isn’t real.”

“E-e-eddie, we j-j-ust-”

“No, Bill!” Eddie shouted, shaking his head frantically. “This isn’t real, we saw this in the Neibolt house! It’s a trick, you fucking know it is, It’s trying to mess with us.”

Bill looked to be on the verge of tears as Eddie stared at him in panic, chest rapidly rising and falling. He refused to believe this, that Richie had been taken. Because if this was real, that meant Richie was most likely dead. He remembered in Neibolt how they’d seen the corpse of Betty Ripsom, torn in half and screaming. Nobody really believed the missing kids were still alive, and Eddie had seen evidence that was true. So Richie couldn’t be missing. Missing meant dead.

“He can’t be missing!” Eddie insisted, voice shaking. Bev opened her mouth to say something, but closed it, just watching Eddie sadly as he scanned the page. When he reached the last seen line, he frowned. Last seen: July 28th. It was the first of August now. Richie had been missing for three days? And nobody told him until now?

Hold on… how could he have been missing for three days? Eddie had seen him a little over twelve hours ago.

“He can’t be missing.” He repeated more matter-of-factly. Bev put one of her hands of Eddie’s, trying to coax him out of his apparent stubbornness. 

“We don’t want to believe it either,” she said softly, being as comforting as possible. “But We need to-”

“No, Bev, I saw him.” Eddie cut her off. She and Bill looked gobsmacked.

“What?” Beverly’s voice was urgent. 

“W-wait, y-you  _ saw  _ him?” Bill pressed. Eddie nodded. “As in, r-recently?”

Eddie nodded. “Last night, he came here. I think something was wrong with him.”

“Wrong how?” Bev asked, and Eddie explained how he’d seen Richie from his window. He told them how he’d looked off and how when he saw Eddie, he bolted. 

Bev and Bil hung onto Eddie’s every word as he recounted the evening. When he finished, they were quiet for a long moment. Eddie hated the quiet but couldn’t think of any way to break the morose spell they were under. 

_ Richie would say something.  _ Eddie thought, chest aching.  _ Something stupid for sure, but at least he’d be here. _

Eventually, their gracious leader Bill piped up. “Sometihngs wr-wrong.” He reiterated. “B-but, if i-i-its-s got ruh-Richie, we ha-have to do suh-something.” 

The three of them agreed that they needed to make a plan with the others and set out to round up the remaining members of the losers club. Bill would fetch Mike, Eddie fetching Stan and Bev fetching Ben. They’d meet up at the Barrens in an hour, by the small creek portion that ran under the kissing bridge. 

Eddie pedalled towards Stan’s house with a ball of dread in his stomach. He was worried sick for Richie, but he felt at fault for it too. He should have gone after him last night. He could have kept Richie from going missing if he hadn’t been such a coward. This time though, Eddie was going after him. He pedalled harder.

Time didn’t exist to Richie anymore. He didn’t know how long he’d been wandering around, it could’ve been weeks or mere hours. Not that he cared. His head was gloriously empty, and for the first time ever he felt like he was enjoying life. He used to thrive on attention, calling it to himself every moment he got. He needed to be seen and heard, he needed the proof that people liked him. Not anymore. Now he entertained himself with his own thoughts, reveling in his newfound freedom from fear. 

His body moved on its own accord through the sewers, laughing as he slipped into the water. He was covered in cuts and bruises from the constant falling, not to mention the thick layer of grime that coated his skin. He was hiding in the sewer, having returned here after last night. He couldn’t remember much of what happened, not that he minded that. He had felt bad for a little, but when thought had drained from his head again he was drawn back here. Something told Richie that the closer he stayed to the Neibolt house, the better chance he had of staying this way. Which was what he wanted. 

Richie wouldn’t hide away here forever, though. He wanted to have fun. So he left the sewers and made his way into the running water outside, splashing and falling and laughing. He’d always loved the barrens, wading around in the cool water or getting in play fights with his friends. 

Speaking of which, two familiar figures stumbled out of the treeline, appearing to be in a hurry. The boys kept their eyes on their footing so not to fall on the rocky beach and didn’t notice Richie slip back into the sewer’s opening, peering out to watch them with intense curiosity.

Stan and Eddie didn’t see Richie at all. Eddie looked especially impatient, continually checking and re-checking his wristwatch as he paced. Stan on the other hand dejectedly sat down on the rocks, facing the sewers enough that Richie could see that his face was splotchy in some places. 

“They said meet here in an hour, what the fuck is taking them forever?” Eddie rambled. Stan just shrugged. “Like I know theyre not known for being on time but its fucking Richie, you think they could put in the effort-”

“Could you maybe not right now, Eddie?” Stan snapped, clearly distressed.

Eddie stopped pacing and worried his lip. “Sorry.” He muttered, before fumbling with his fanny pack for his inhaler.

Richie had peered out a little further when Eddie said his name. It had felt familiar and completely foreign at the same time, and hearing Eddie say it made the spinning in his head worse. So Richie elected to take the backseat and let that Other Thing pilot him through this. 

He watched through a haze as Stanley sniffled and wiped at his face, trying with little success to pull himself together. As Richie wondered what made him cry like that, Stan looked up into the sky, hoping he could keep the tears from falling. As he did, his eyes flicked over Richie. He did a double take, rubbing at his eyes. As his eyes focused on Richie, he paled and scrambled back. Richie watched with rapt attention.

“Eddie!” Stan called over his shoulder, and Eddie whipped around, squatting by Stan.

“What? What’s wrong?” Stan could only point as Eddie fussed over him, eventually following Stans finger to see Richie, still watching.

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “Richie?” Eddie thought his heart might stop. In the daylight he could see how frail Richie looked, covered in grime and blood. That wasn’t the focus puller though. What made Eddie panic was his eyes. His eyes, normally brown and mischievous had all the color drained from them, and Richie stared at his friends with hazy white eyes like a blind man. They locked eyes for an instant, and then Richie slipped back into the sewer.

_ Bring him  _ something whispered into Richie’s head, and just like that there was a tug at the small of his back. It felt like someone had tied a string to his vertebra there and was reeling him back into the sewers. He obeyed it, ducking out of sight and retreating towards the house and the lights that called his body there.

Eddie would not let Richie get away like that again. Just as soon as he’d seen Richie, Eddie was on his feet, sprinting for the mouth of the sewer chest burning with adrenaline fuelled bravery. Any fears of greywater were gone. All Eddie knew was that Richie was  _ not _ missing, he would make sure of that. He was dragging Richie out of that missing poster right now and God help any force that tried to stop him. 

“Eddie wait!” Stan called out behind him, probably having rational thoughts like how Richie could be an illusion, the way Bill saw Georgie in his basement. But Eddie couldn’t risk believing that, not when he was so close to saving Richie. 

_ Save Richie  _ was the only coherent thought or feeling Eddie had. Save him the way he saved Eddie dozens of times, shoving himself between Eddie and the assholes that beat Richie to a pulp. Or how he’d save Eddie from his own spinning thoughts, wriggling into his room at night to distract him with quiet jokes and impossibly soft hands holding his. How every single time that fucking clown showed up, Richie was right there to protect him, pulling him away from the projector or holding Eddie’s face last time they’d ventured into Neibolt.  _ Eddie! _ Richie had screamed, trying desperately to pull Eddie’s attention off the clown and onto him.  _ Eddie look at me!  _ He was always right there, and the one time Richie needed Eddie he wasn’t there for him. Eddie wasn’t going to let that happen again.

He rushed to the sewer opening in time to see the corner of Richie’s filthy hawaiian shirt flick around a corner up ahead. He pursued that too, following Richie into the belly of the beast. As he rounded the corner though, Richie was nowhere in sight. Eddie skidded to a halt, whipping around in search of where he could have gone.

“Richie?” He was at a junction, not sure whether or not to pursue to the left or right.

Richie had been happy for his mind to go on autopilot, letting himself draw Eddie in because he wanted Eddie near, he always did. There was a small part of him at war with that desire, though. In the back of his head he could hear it, his own voice, pleading with him to  _ leave Eddie alone, don’t hurt him, please.  _ Richie was usually able to ignore it, but with Eddie so close he let himself listen for a moment. In that moment, Richie had the reigns back from Pennywise again and reality washed over him. He collapsed against the sewer wall, completely overwhelmed by pain. 

Richie’s head felt like it was being split in two as he attempted to grapple control back from It. He could feel It drawing him back into the floating lights, wrestling him back even, but Richie refused to go and it wracked his body with pain. His knees buckled as It overwhelmed his mind with one command,  _ float, float, Float FLOAT.  _ Richie tried to scream but he couldn’t; His mind may be his but his body was not. It kept tugging him back down into the sewers, into the cavern where Richie knew the lights were. That invisible string on his spine was pulling him there, sending bolts of white hot pain through his nerves when he resisted. With deep terror, Richie realized he could feel how close the deadlights were to him, and he could feel them getting closer.

_ It’s coming _

Eddie must have heard the splashing he’d caused because he came running. He rounded the corner and stared as Richie clung to the wall for his life, curled in on himself as he scrambled for purchase against the old rusted piping in an effort to bring himself upright. Without hesitation, he ran to Richie.

“Richie!” 

Hearing Eddie’s voice made Richie’s head snap up. His vision was cleared of It’s magical veil but pain still blurred his vision. Still, he could make out the shape of Eddie in front of him, worried and grabbing at his arms.

“Eddie?” His voice was worn, like he’d shredded his vocal cords from screaming. His head was pounding as Pennywise continued the assault on his mind. Having Eddie here helped, but Richie new that proximity to the deadlights would draw him back in soon; he didn’t have long. Richie tried to focus his eyes as Eddie attempted to check him over. His eyes were clear again, much to Eddie’s relief, but his whole body shook.

“It’s me Rich, I’m right here.” Eddie rushed to assure Richie, who was still very much in pain. “C’mon, we’ve gotta get you out of here.” He grabbed Richie’s hand and tugged, only for Richie to crumple, his back sliding down the wall. “Richie? What’s-”

“No, no, no, no,” Richie mumbled in a frenzy, trying to shake away Eddie’s hand. This was too much, It was too close and Richie was losing the fight. “It’s coming Eds, you gotta-  _ Augh! _ ” Richie keeled over as he felt It enter the sewer, moving towards the two of them. “Go, get out of here, go, go!” He ordered, but Eddie didn’t listen.

“What are you talking about?” Eddie demanded, completely unaware of the dangers Richie knew were present. “It’s okay Rich, It’s not here. Now c’mon, let’s get out of here!”

But Richie couldn’t because he knew what Eddie didn’t. So with the last of his effort he tore his hand out of Eddie’s and let himself slump down into the sewer water, spent. Richie could feel the deadlights behind him now, and he felt himself slip away as haze settled over his eyes once more. Eddie watched as Richie held his hands in front of his face, examining them with morbid curiosity. Richie’s fingertips were coated in blood, cut open from scraping along the wall. It calmed him, lulling him back into his mindless state. He examined the red at is fingertips as Eddie tried to get his attention, tugging at his wrists fruitlessly. He was saying something distantly, but Richie couldn’t hear it. He was too enthralled by the blood on his hands.

_ It looks like paint.  _ He thought, remembering how when he was much younger he’d love to fingerpaint, frequently getting in trouble for getting his colorful paints in places they weren’t supposed to be. His mother had bought him those paints to entertain him so she could work, but quickly confiscated them when he’d proven he would only make a mess by smearing it all over his face. It hadn’t been an accident either, he just wanted her to pay his a little attention. She never did for longer than a few minutes. 

This paint was his, though. He could do what he wanted with it. He shook Eddie off his wrists and pushed his fingertips to his face, smearing the paint across his cheeks. Eddie watched in abject horror, frozen as Richie giggled into his hands. He ran his hands up his face and under his glasses then pulled them back down, dragging his middle fingers over his eyebrows, eyes and cheeks until reaching the corner of his lips. He let his hands drop then, shoulders shaking with silent laughter as he looked up to show Eddie his handiwork. 

Eddie recoiled from what he saw. Richie’s eyes were white again, and the blood stains on his face where horrifyingly familiar. His breath picked up a manic pace as whatever Richie became kept laughing, and he stumbled back landing with his ass in the greywater.

“Where you going, Eddie spaghetti?” Taunted Richie, sounding not very like Richie at all. “What the rush to leave? Stay down here!” Richie pulled himself to his feet mechanically, clearly not grasping all his motor control. He’d always been a bit taller than Eddie, but now he towered over him with murderous intent. 

Richie kept taunting, “Stay here with me, and we can float forever. Don’t you want that?” Eddie was petrified with fear. As Richie spoke, a white glove appeared on his shoulder. “Don’t you want to float with me?” Two glowing pinpricks appeared just above Richie’s head, yellow and sickly. Eyes.

A terrible face emerged from behind Richie, disproportionately large and malformed. It smiled down at him, the grin cutting his face in half to reveal dozens of razor sharp teeth. It opened its mouth, the uncanny smile pushing its yellow eyes up and out of the way of Its growing maw. Eddie couldn’t move, he’d never been more scared in his life. Not when he’d met the leper, or broken his arm, but here, now, because when he’d been in this position before Richie had been at his side. He didn’t even have that anymore, and as Pennywise leaned down to devour him and all his unbridled fear, Eddie looked to Richie, praying that he’d come to and save him like he always did. 

He didn’t. Richie stood frozen with a crazed smile and tears tracking down his face, and Eddie screamed. 

Suddenly, there was a hand on his collar and Eddie was being yanked back by a strong grip. He watched, still screaming as It bit down on the air where he used to be, eyes red with rage as It realized nothing was there. Eddie was being dragged backwards by two sets of hands, and he quickly scurried to get his feet beneath him so he could run on his own. He did, leaving It with Richie to slink back into the depths of Derry. 

As the three, no, four boys burst into the sunlight, Eddie was able to see that Bill and Mike had been the ones to pull him out of death’s jaws, and Stanley had lead them to where Eddie had run. They caught their breaths for a moment, processing as the only sounds heard was their heavy breathing and Eddie unzipping his fanny pack for his inhaler.

Shaking, Eddie brought the inhaler to his mouth but before he could use it, it slipped and clattered against the rocks. 

“Shit!” Eddie chased it downwards, catching sight of blood on his hand from when he’d grabbed Richie. “Shit, shit, shit,  _ Shit, Shit!” _ Stan squatted down next to Eddie and picked up the inhaler, pressing it into Eddie’s palm so that it covered the thin streaks of blood. Mike patted his shoulder as he used his inhaler, once then twice, trying to calm his breathing. He knew that he shouldn’t use it more than that, but it didn’t feel like it was working. His chest was still just as tight.

He had been so close. Richie had been right there, shaking and terrified but there, and alive and then something happened to him and it was like he wasn’t. Eddie clenched his fist around his inhaler, remembering how Richie’s eyes had shifted into a dead-man's stare, and how when that happened everything that was Richie slipped away. 

Mike called him back to the moment, lightly jostling his shoulder. “You okay?” He asked, quietly. Eddie looked up at them. Stan was still crouched in front of him, looking somewhere between scared and ill. Bill stared back at Eddie with wide eyes, lip trembling. Mike, easily the most composed loser, was watching Eddie solemnly, waiting for his response.

“No.” Eddie said, rushing to his feet. “No, I’m not okay! How could I be anywhere fucking close to okay!? I almost died! Again! And Richie, he…” Eddie couldn’t find the words to come next, because what was Richie now? Not dead, not missing, but not here either. Maybe not even entirely alive. Eddie’s throat burned as he worked himself up. 

“Richie is… fuck, I dont know! But I couldn’t help him! And now he’s stuck with it and-”

Bill grabbed his shoulders, snapping him out of his fit. “We knuh-know, Eddie. Buh-belev-v-e me, we know.” Eddie’s breathing slowed down as his thoughts settled in his head, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline wore off. Bill opened his mouth to keep talking, but was cut off when Ben and Beverly emerged from the trees, talking urgently but stopping when they saw the positioning of their four friends. 

“What happened?” Beverly demanded, knowing immediately from their expressions it was nothing good.

Bill took a shaky breath. “We saw Richie.”

The five kids sat in a circle on the rocky beach where they’d once engaged in a rock war, dully named by the only member of the losers club not in attendance. Richie’s absence weighed on the group like a wet blanket. While they teased him relentlessly for his childish outbursts and immature jokes, the lack of his presence made it clear to them how much they needed Richie. As Eddie, with contributions from Stan, explained to the best of his ability what happened, they could all feel tension building and no means of cutting it. That had always been Richie. They were kids, not cut out for these harsh realities, but when Richie interrupted with a bad line it kept the conversations from going to dark. Which is where the conversation went now.

“Possessed is the best word I can think to use.” Eddie said, wrinkling his nose in thought. “Like, all of a sudden Richie wasn’t Richie.” Next to him, Bill shuttered. There was an awkward amount of space between Eddie and Bill. When they’d all sat down, they gravitated towards the order they usually sat in. This left a huge Richie sized whole in the circle to Eddie’s right, and Bill hadn’t noticed until they were seated. He’d scooted a bit closer to Eddie, trying to minimize how glaringly obvious their missing piece was, but it did little to help.

Eddie did his best to ignore it and continued. “But I think he was fighting it. Like, When he saw me and Stan, his eyes were white. Then I saw him in the sewer, and he was normal. Then I uhm, I caught him, and they cha- urm, changed again.” His voice had broken halfway through, flinching as he remembered so distinctly how Richie had changed. “That’s when It showed up and-”  _ And he almost died and Richie just watched _ “and Mike and Bill got me out of there.”

“S-stan helped.” Bill supplied, but Stanley shook his head.

“Not much.” he spat, so bitter everyone turned their complete attention to him. “Eddie charged in no problem, but my best friends life's on the line and I can’t bring myself to go in too?” Ben went to put a comforting hand on his arm, but Stan jerked it away. “What kind of a friend am I?” 

“It could have been an illusion.” Bev said softly. “Up until now it’s all been illusions, you had every reason to believe it wasn't real and you did nothing wrong.” Stan just shook his head.

“Come to think of it, why wasn’t it an illusion?” Ben questioned, earning all eyes trained on him. “Up until now it’s all been mind games, right? So why use Richie like that?” Eddie flinched at how harsh Ben’s phrasing was. Ben seemed to notice his misstep too. “Uh, Sorry.”

Mike piped up with an answer. “We know from last time that It seems to want fear or something. It wants us to be afraid, and after the last time It realized illusions weren’t cutting it.”

Eddie found himself nodding, he’d been the one to supply that information. When he had been so close to It’s teeth and he’d been screaming, he’d heard it growl,  _ tasty, tasty beautiful fear.  _ But despite how effective the illusions had been, they’d still injured it and escaped with their lives and they’d done it because they were together and unafraid. It countered that by taking one of their own and using him to create very real fear. All things considered, it was a brilliant tactical move. Eddie wanted to kill it with fire. 

“So what now?” Eddie said, raising the question that everybody had been grappling with.  _ What now?  _ Wait and see if Richie stumbled out again? Storm sewers, guns blazing? Find at least one rational adult in the whole of Derry? The losers turned to Bill instinctually, deferring to his leadership.

Bill stood and brushed himself off, jaw set. “We go get our trashmouth back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dont know if you can tell but I only work on this sleep deprived, so please feel free to criticize in the comments. every single comment warms me inside and out, so please loved, it, hated it, thought my grammar sucks, tell me! 
> 
> Also Im just tossing this out there but there are a few readers who've commented on multiple of my works and I've commented on a few of theirs and I really sort of appreciate the back and forth we have? Idk but if you feel that applies to you, reach out! I want to make an IT tumblr chatroom for us to share our works and spitball ideas and edit and shit. or if thats sort of thing sounds any fun to you. My writing tumblr is @TopazTales!
> 
> Small note but I will be editing this in the morning so small details may change


	4. who's pain is it anyways?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The losers search the sewers for Richie, and Richie decides to float

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, very sorry for not posting sooner. I was going to straight up abandon this work but it got some comments that really motivated me so here we go!  
Also, Trigger warnings: Gas lighting and manipulation (by pennywise,) canon typical gore/horror, use of slurs.

Richie was so cold. 

He was standing slumped against the wall of the cistern that both him and It called home now. He was numb, but not the pleasant numbness he’d had before. He could feel how angry It was with him for trying to fight for control. Not to mention how he’d let It’s meal slip away. Richie could feel how much It had wanted Eddie’s overflowing fear and since Richie had let him escape, Pennywise was hungry.

_ Why won’t you let me in, Richie?  _ It sneered in his mind.  _ Let the clown in. Let me help you float. _

“Stop…” Richie groaned, not sure if he was speaking or thinking his words. It all hurt too much to tell.

_ Do you really want me to stop? you want to feel all that pain again? Feel the hurt?  _ Richie’s head started to pound, it felt like his brain was swelling and threatening to crack his skull.  _ I can bring it all back, if that’s what you want. _

“No, no please,” Richie begged, clutching his head as it throbbed. “Don’t make me feel that, I don’t want to feel, please!”

_ Then let go.  _ It implored, easing back on the pain it so easily flooded Richie with. _ Float with me, Richie. _

Hot tears streamed down Richie’s face “Why?” he begged, desperate to understand why this was happening to him. Why It wouldn’t just let him die? 

_ Because we have so much in common!  _ It’s voice dripped with false sincerity.

“No,” Richie protested. His voice was so weak, “no, I’m not like you.”

_ Aw, aren’t you though, Richie? You’re exactly like me. You can do your little song and dance routine, tell your funny jokes, but when it comes down to it, nobody wants a clown around. Especially once they figure out your secret. _

“That’s not true” Richie tried to argue, but he knew he was only trying to convince himself. Good people ran away from people like him. Or made him run, like in the arcade. Maybe his friends wouldn’t, though. Didn’t they love him?

_ They  _ left _ you.  _ It reminded him. _ They left you alone when all you wanted was a friend. They don’t care if you go missing. They only kept you around for laughs anyway. They’ll toss you out eventually, especially once they realize how dirty you are.  _

As Richie listened his breathing slowed. It was right, he thought. They’d tossed him aside so many times. As much as Richie tried to entertain them, give them a reason to let him stay, it was always “Shut up, Richie,” and “Beep beep, Richie.” He was kept around for jokes like a court jester. If they knew how disgusting he really was, they wouldn’t hesitate to leave him behind. Richie’s face ached where Bill had punched him. Hadn’t they already?

_ You’ve been so scared of them leaving you, and they did. But you know something, Richie? I’d never leave you. I’ll stay and float with you. I’m such a good friend, I’ll stay even though you’ve got that dirty little secret. _

Richie cringed. That damned secret had always been what he figured would drive them away. Turns out he didn’t need to be a fag to do it, he just needed to be his obnoxious self and they’d go running. Even Eddie. Especially Eddie.

It quickly pushed thoughts of Eddie out of his head.  _ I won’t leave you for being sick, Richie, _ It cooed in his mind.  _ I’ll always be there to take the hurt away.  _ Just like that, Richie felt his headache slip away, taking with it the pain from his scrapes and the ache in his heart.

_ They did this to you. They hurt you, but I can take it all away and give it to them instead.  _

It felt so good, the absence of pain. Richie reveled in it, clinging to the joy that came with being free of hunger and hurt and heartbreak. 

_ Is this what you want? Want to make them feel the pain instead? _

With his newfound clarity, Richie pondered the offer. The voice was right, he decided. His friends left him. They never liked him in the first place. They’d broken his heart. 

He hated them for it.

“Yes.” He said, his voice echoing back at him off the walls. 

_ Then let me in, Richie, and you’ll float too. You'll float too! _

So he did. 

* * *

The losers marched through the sewers in silence, each focused on the task ahead of them with intense determination. Bill in the lead, his fast stride matched by Eddie. Bev was hot on their heels, followed closely by Ben and Mike with Stan bringing up the rear. They had set off fairly confidently, but as they pushed forward every one of them had a growing feeling of discomfort. They had no idea what they were marching into. They were unarmed, save the mini-flashlight Eddie carried in his fanny pack. Bill, who had studied the sewers of Derry in his search for Georgie, knew these sewers ran directly under the house on Neibolt Street. That was presumably where It’s lair was, but nobody knew what waited for them there. Just that Richie was there. He had to be.

They had been walking in silence for about ten minutes when Stan stopped. He stared down a turnoff that went deeper into the sewers. Bill had walked past it, confident he knew his way towards the well house. But staring down the stretch of pipe, Stan could've sworn he saw movement. He watched something, a human shape something, wandering down there before it vanished into darkness. 

Stan couldn’t move. He was paralyzed by fear and indecision, his brain telling him to call out to his friends and tell them to stop or at least go see what had moved, if it was Richie, but his body demanded that he stay right here, don’t confront whatever that is,  _ stay right here. _

Ben, who heard Stan stop splashing behind them, turned around. “Stan?” He asked, prompting the others to turn and look too. Stan was shaking head to toe, moving his mouth but nothing came out.

“Stan? What is it?” Beverly pressed as kindly as she could, as she and Ben approached him.

“I-I saw-” He attempted, words falling short. But it was enough. Ben looked down the sewer, then at Bev, and an understanding passed between them. They tore off into the dark, not running but marching towards what they had to hope and pray was their friend. 

“Guys, Wait!” Stan tried to reach after them but his feet were rooted to their spot. He watched Eddie shoot down the sewer, followed closely by Mike. Tears sprung to Stans eyes as he watched his friends chase something he was too afraid to face for the second time. Bill was about to follow when he stopped and grabbed Stans arm, shaking him. 

“Did you suh-see him?” Bill demanded. “Did you see Richie?”

Stan blinked. Almost no stutter, he thought. “No.” He shook his head. “Just someone. I-I couldn’t tell who.”

Bill set his jaw and nodded. “Guys!” He called out. “That muh-might not be him!”

While Bill was with Stan, the other losers pursued the shape deeper into the sewers. Ben, now in the lead, put a hand out to stop the others when he saw a shape slumped against the wall. Eddie bumped into his arm which lead to Bev bumping into his back, Mike stopping just short of collision.

“Hey, watch-” Eddie started then stopped. He saw it too, the figure with its back against the wall. 

“Richie?” Ben whispered as Eddie directed his flashlight beam at the person. It straightened up, and Eddie’s heart fell. He had shaggy black hair and lanky frame, but he was too tall to be Richie. Wrong clothes too. 

“Found ya, tits.” Crooned a decomposing Patrick Hockstetter. His face was grey and gaunt, and in complete horror the kids realized the right side of his face had already begun to rot. Greenish chunks dangled from his jaw, suspended by stretched skin that Eddie could see through. He gagged when he saw teeth through torn cheeks.

Despite their collective abject horror, none of them moved. They watched as a zombified Hockstetter grinned at them, then opened his mouth as red hot fire erupted from within him. Somebody let out a scream, and all four losers scrambled back the way they came, desperate to escape Patrick and the fire he spewed that wasn’t unlike the lighter/aerosol combo he’d weaponized in life. Ben stumbled a bit in their escape but was lugged along by Mike, and screaming they ran back and slammed into Bill and Stan. The boys only had a moment to process what was going on before fire erupted from behind them again, and they got the memo: Run.

They stumbled and splashed down a different path with Hockstetter literally hot on their heels. He’d shepherded them down a new path, one Bill had been about to bypass before the fire-zombie attacked. Screaming and splashing the losers ran until they burst into a large… opening. Cave? It was hard to tell. But as they entered, the fire chasing them sputtered out and died, having pushed them to where they needed to be. Where It wanted them. 

By the sewer entrance, the six children caught their breaths, keeled over and holding their knees to stay upright. Eddie shoved his inhaler in his mouth and took a desperate hit from it before letting his eyes adjust to wherever he was. When he could see the scope of the cavern, he fumbled for his inhaler again. It was impossibly huge and filled with clutter, broken chairs littered around. A disgusting dampness clung to the air and it was almost enough to make Eddie gag. 

“Guys.” He managed, drawing their attention from checking one another to the center of the room. The pile of waste curled up towards the ceiling surrounded by floating bodies. It was a horror to behold, and the losers marveled at it.It was a scene gruesome enough to spawn nightmares, and it probably would, but as Eddie scanned down the tower, he laid eyes on something that made his blood run cold. 

“Richie?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to leave a bit of a cliffhanger but next chapter is the big showdown! its half way done now and Ill hopefully have her out before christmas. In the mean time, please please comment! they mean the world to me. hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone actually enjoys this please comment because as far as I'm concerned I'm the only hoe that wanted this and this whole fic is entirely self serving.  
Also I have a writing Tumblr @Topaztales check my shit out there


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